Panchito: Season Two
by Nothing Really Specific
Summary: Panchito and the gang return for Season Two. Donald's relationship with Daisy gets jeopardized, Terry's house gets an interesting remodel, riots, rallies, a housewarming party that makes "Project X" look like an eight year old birthday party. Panchito's family reunion. The gang visits Brazil, Panchito tries to get his old job back, and new characters are introduced. Please review!
1. So, You Ran Over Jesus

**PANCHITO**

**Season Two**

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**(In order for this to make sense, please read _Season One_ first)**

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**"3 Good Friends: Part Two"**

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**Chapter One: So, You Ran Over Jesus**

We pulled up into Starbucks. "So," I said, looking at everyone, "what does everyone want?" I pulled out my phone, opened my Notepad app and took down orders:

Dodger: Nothing, doesn't drink coffee

Donald: Iced Cafe Americano

John: Iced Cafe Mocha

Jose: Strawberries and Crème Frappuccino

Launchpad: Black Shaken Iced Tea

Panchito: Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino

Slash: Vanilla Rooibos Tea Latte

Terry: Blueberry Muffin

Me: Carmel Frappuccino (my usual, no joke by the way)

So I walked in orders and money in hand into the Starbucks. The rest of them in good sport followed me. I turned to Jose.

Hey, Jose

"Si Senor?" The parrot said.

Write for me while I order.

"Sure." Jose said. He cleared his throat.

_I'm not really sure how to do this but..._Jose began. _He pulled out his wallet and told the orders. The cashier woman, who was a fat, overworked, underpaid lady in her forties, who had nothing better to do with her time and only looked forward to sitting down at the end of the day looked at him as if he was crazy._

_"That'll be $268.90." She said._

_"What? That's crazy!" Nothing Really Specific said._

Jose rolled his eyes and tapped my shoulder. "Senor," he said, "I can't do this, do you have a nickname or something that I can call you by, anything?" I shook my head. "Alright, fine, I'll give you one."

"That's fine." I said.

Jose continued writing.

_"What? That's crazy!" Perçage said. ("Boring" in French)_

_"I'm sorry sir," the cashier replied, "I don't make the prices."_

_Perçage nodded, turned away in defeat and looked at his friends._

_"Sorry guys, I don't have the money."_

_Slash nodded, "Don't worry, I got this." He said walking towards the counter._

_Perçage turned to Jose._

You can stop writing now.

"Thanks," Jose said. "I was starting to get fidgety."

Don't like writing?

"No." The parrot said. "It gives me anxiety."

Slash walked towards the counter with a little bit of a strut. The cashier noticed this and looked up. She was, fortunately for us, the biggest Guns n' Roses fan ever. She screamed with glee, like a thirteen year girl does when she sees her favorite artist in public, it was like Beatles mania or something. She smiled, waved, screamed her head off, ran in circles, and gazed very provocatively at him. Slash, who had his sunglasses on, put his arm on the counter, tilted his head, moved his sunglasses down on his nose and said. "So, what kind of music do you like?"

"All of your music!" The cashier screamed. Slash rolled his eyes, "Anything else." He said, not wanting to play any of his own songs. "Do you know any Bluegrass?" The cashier asked. Slash nodded, "Got a banjo?" The cashier nodded and pulled one out from underneath the desk, she grabbed a permanent marker, a black Sharpie as well. Slash took both, signed the banjo and began playing. Everything was fine until Jose looked over.

"What song are you playing?" Jose asked, his face turning to slight fear at the sight of the banjo. Slash turned towards the parrot, "No idea," he said turning back towards the cashier, "any requests?"

The cashier nodded. "O Brother."

"Gottcha," Slash said, "O Brother, coming up." He said.

He started playing the guitar, the opening chords, the sixteenth notes, and the old country feel began to fill the room. Everyone started to tap their right foot, Panchito, Donald, Launchpad, Terry, John, and me started to do a square dance variation as the song progressed. Dodger just waited outside by the door, which I opened so that way he could hear. He bobbed his head back and forth. Everyone was having a relatively good time. The kitchen detail was clapping along, the cashier stood batty eyed, Slash played flawlessly. The only one who was in complete hell was Jose. At about the two-minute mark, and old geezer in the back had a violin and knew the song well enough to play the violin part. He started playing. Jose looked around the room, the swirling mass of terror and confusion. His head started spinning, his eyes became enraged, he looked like he was about to explode. When the violin got to the really fast sixteenth notes, at the climax of the solo, Jose looked left and burst through the window. Everyone stopped dancing and enjoying themselves and turned, seeing the shattered glass and Jose, the deranged parrot, who was now bleeding, on the sidewalk outside.

Dodger looked over and rushed towards him, "Hey, you alright?" He asked. Jose, with pieces of glass lodged in his head and beak looked up at the dog and smiled. "Yeah, just peachy."

"Hold on alright." Dodger said. An ambulance wheeled by. Dodger barked in distress. The ambulance still drove off. Dodger huffed, not really wanting to chase an ambulance in Vegas but after looking at Jose again, he swallowed his pride and ran after it, barking all the way.

Panchito and Donald rushed out and helped their friend to his feet. The rest of us walked out a bit confused. "Where did Dodger go?" Launchpad asked. Terry, John, Launchpad, and Slash turned towards me.

What?

"Aren't you the author?" John said.

Yeah.

"Do you know what's going on?" Terry asked.

At this point, hell no.

Terry walked over to the Hummer and opened the door to allow Panchito and Donald to set Jose down in the seat. The two birds started fanning him, giving him some air. Launchpad walked over, "Why the hell did you jump out of a window?" He asked as the rest of us walked over. Jose looked at me. "Why did you do that senor?" The parrot said looking at Slash.

"You gotta do it for the chicks man, you gotta do it for the chicks."

####

Dodger ran down the street. The ambulance was whizzing by like Speedy Gonzales. Dodger barked like a good dog. "Hey asshole!" He screamed at the ambulance, running beside it. The ambulance driver, who just so happened to be Bill Sikes, Dodger's archrival. They stopped at a red light. Dodger dodged a car that was pulling up. His tail wasn't so lucky though. It was stuck underneath the back right tire. His face was priceless. Dodger looked towards the driver seat window, trying to hide his pain to the best of his ability.

Sikes rolled the window down, he was smoking a big cigar that said, "I'm a drug lord douchebag turned ambulance driver who still can't kick the cigar smoking habit about thirty years, I have lung cancer, and I am the world's worst person ever sunglasses." Yes, he had sunglasses on. "So, if it isn't Dodger, my old friend." He said with a despicable laugh as he knocked cigar ashes onto the dog's nose. "What do you need?" He said. "For you to turn around and save my friend." Dodger said. "Sorry," Sikes said, "can't help ya, busy."

"Where are you headed?" Dodger asked, not believing a word he said.

"Starbucks." Sikes answered. Dodger sighed, "Starbucks is that-a way." He said pointing back the way he came. "It is?" Sikes said with a malicious smile. "Well, let me be on my way then." The green light. Painfully the car moved off Dodger's tail, and the dog quickly moved out of harm's way. Sikes drove the ambulance through the stoplight, only to turn around at the last minute, causing a wreck, and speed in the other direction, purposefully running Dodger over. Dodger screamed like hell and ran after the ambulance again.

In the back of the ambulance, Sikes' assistant, Br'er Rabbit, with his scrubs, was behaving like a legitimate very literal Mexican Jumping Bean. In other words, he was bouncin' all over the place. "Sikes!" Br'er said in his Southern drawn accent, "I'm bouncin' all over the place, stop fuckin' around and drive right before I have to beat you to a pulp again!"

"Shut up you idiot I'm driving!" Sikes replied. Br'er looked at Sikes, and although he was his partner, he wanted to kill him. "Would it kill you to," he said, looking through the windshield, "Jesus Christ!" He exclaimed.

"What!" Sikes said, confused as they were coming up in a man with a beard, who in truth, did look like the Western depiction of Jesus. If Jesus were homeless that is. In reality this man's name was Jesus, pronounced Hey-Zeus, and his last name was Chris. Jesus Chris, and Jesus wasn't anything special, just a recent casino worker, now unemployed, who just got kicked out of his house, trying to go get some coffee to lift his spirits. Sikes slammed the breaks and Jesus crossed the crosswalk, but it was too late because the ambulance hit him and stopped.

Br'er and Sikes looked at each other in regret and rushed out. Jesus was bleeding on the ground, his nose was bloody and his head hurt, he also lay flat on the ground, not really wanting to move. "Holy shit!" Br'er said, leaning over the poor man they just run over, he looked at Sikes. "You killed Jesus!"

"No correction, _we_ killed Jesus." Sikes said.

Jesus sat up painfully and looked at both of them. "My name is Jesus."

"Yeah, we know." Br'er said, apparently missing the pronunciation. "You're the savior."

Jesus sighed, "It's pronounced Hey-Zeus."

"Hey!" Br'er yelled, getting a bit defensive. "Don't you dare go blasphemizing on me!"

"But that's my name!" Jesus insisted, standing up. "Woah, now," Br'er said, "don't you start walking on water now." He said. "What?" Jesus said, looking at the rabbit as if he were crazy. "Go, get away from me!" He walked towards the Starbucks.

Jesus passed the Hummer and saw me typing on my laptop. He walked over. "Are you the author of this story?" He asked. I looked up and nodded, "Yeah, why, something bothering you?"

"Yeah," Jesus pointed towards Br'er Rabbit, "that guy right there, I don't know what his problem is but he thinks I'm God." I rolled my eyes, closed my laptop, sat it down safely on the floor of the Hummer and walked over.

"Br'er," I said. "we need to have a talk."

"Sure." He said, and as we walked to the back of the ambulance, Dodger showed up, panting like crazy. "Did I miss anything?" He asked. "Yeah," I answered, "they just ran over Jesus."

"Jesus Christ?" He asked.

"No! Jesus Chris."

Dodger nodded, "Is that a cousin of his or something?"

I sighed, "Just get back to the Hummer." Dodger left. I turned towards Br'er Rabbit, "Look, I don't know if this is going to work."

"What do you mean if this ain't gonna work?" Br'er asked, a look of 'please keep me on' all over his face. "You're just so gullible." I said. "So you're fired."

"W-w-what?" Br'er said, a tear falling from his eye and going down one of his whiskers. "But I thought you liked me?"

I smiled. "Like I said, you're so gullible, get back in there."

Br'er just looked at me and flipped me off. "Asshole." He said and shut the ambulance door.


	2. The Head, The Heart, and The Soul

**Chapter Two: Explain The Head, The Heart, and The Soul...But Leave Bodily Functions Out of Your Explanation**

**High T: Language**

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"Clear!"

_Buzz! Zap!_

The sounds of a defibrillator coming in contact with the parrot who had fallen unconscious at the back of the ambulance truck. Br'er Rabbit, who had the defibrillator in hand, looked at the parrot who remained unresponsive. "Come on now," the rabbit said, his thick country accent taking control. "Don't you dare die on me!" He rubbed the defibrillator again, causing an electrical charge and pressed hard on Jose's chest. "Clear!" He cried again. This time Jose's body lit up like a lightning rod.

"Just stop Br'er." Sikes said. " I'm afraid the parrot is bleeding demised, it's passed on, this parrot is no more, it has ceased to be, it's expired and gone to meet its maker." We all looked at Sikes and said simultaneously, " Oh be quiet with your Monty Python references this is no time to joke!" We said. Sikes smiled and turned back around, smoking his cigar.

Br'er tried one more time. The parrot's body jolted up from the electricity but once again nothing happened. Donald climbed into te ambulance, "Listen to me," he said talking to Jose, "you're going to pull through alright. You have to man." the duck shook the parrot. "Come on wake up!" He slapped Jose repeatedly in the face, "Don't," _slap_ "you," _slap_ "die,"_ slap_ "on," _slap_ "me!" Nothing. Panchito climbed in as well, "Come on Jose," he said, tears forming in both of the birds eyes, "you can't go out like this."

Jose's chest moved slowly up and down. "Hey guys look he's alive!" Dodger said. Panchito and Donald looked at Jose and noticed movement. The parrot opened his eyes and smiled, "Hey guys, what's up?" Without question the two birds hugged their parrot friend and started crying like children. "We thought we lost you!" Donald cried. "Gracias Jesus!"

Jesus who was walking out of the Starbucks and towards out direction. "You're welcome." He said. We all turned and looked at him, our eyes following his movements. He had a pep in his step, too much coffee. We bobbed our heads rhythmically. Donald's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Hey Donald it's me," it was Daisy. "I have something to tell you."

Donald was praying this wouldn't happen. He placed the phone away from his ear. He started to shake, his stomach became queasy, his heart rate quadrupled in intensity, his breathing escalated to hyperventilation mode again. "Donal'!" Panchito yelled, slapping the duck in the face, "Remember what we talked about?" Donald nodded and breathed slowly, in and out.

"Hello? Donald are you there?"

"Y-y-y-yes, I'm here." Donald replied.

"I just wanted to tell you that we're through, finished." Daisy said.

"What!" Donald was about to get into one of his famous fits. "B-b-b-but why?"

"You're never there for me Donald. You're always late to things, you don't keep your commitments, you have a horrible temper problem, that's probably why you can barely hang on to your job. Oh wait, you don't have one right now do you! You just had to visit your Mexican friend who dragged you out to...where the hell are you anyway?"

"Vegas." Donald said.

"Vegas!" Daisy cried, literally and figuratively, "You went to Vegas without me, you must think I'm awful."

"No, it's just a minor setback." Donald insisted, "I'm on the way, I promise."

"That's what you said about the last promise, and the one before that, and the one before that, and," she started to scream cry, to the point where her words became unintelligible. She took a breath after a few moments, giving herself time to compose her thoughts and sentences. "Let me talk to that son of a bitch." Nice sentence.

Donald removed the phone from his ear. "It's for you," he said, handing the phone to Panchito. "Ahola," Panchito said, "Panchito speaking."

"Yeah I know who it fucking is!" Daisy screamed. The rooster quickly cringed at the thought of hearing the angry duck's voice. He removed the phone from his ear and handed it to me. "Here, it's for you." He said. I shrugged and answered, doing my best Panchito impersonation. I cleared my throat. "What's up?" I said.

"You know very well what's up! You're ruining my relationship, and what's worse, you dragged me into this. Me!"

I nodded, "I understand that," I said, still doing my Panchito voice, which was convincing enough to pass. The rooster applauded silently. I sent off a mini salute and continued. "But personally I think that this is good for you."

"Good for me, how could this be good for me Panchito? Donald is a million miles away, and I'm all alone, the nephews don't see him as much as they used to, and I'm not getting any more money! Then what'll I do? Huh, I suppose you're just going to let me starve to death?" She asked.

"What does your food concern have anything to do with this?" I said.

"It has everything to do with it! A girl has to keep up with her figure, and her figure requires things, and things cost money, and money is the one thing that Donald has that I don't." Daisy retorted.

"Aren't you in New York?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"And aren't you making a _million_ dollars right now?"

"Well, yeah," Daisy said, "but that's not the point, the point is, it isn't Donald's money, I want _Donald's_ money."

I smiled, put the phone down for a moment and looked at Donald, "She's crazy dude," I said, "I think it's time you move on."

"No way, I love Daisy still." Donald said.

"I know," I replied, "and I respect that, but she's taking all your money."

"What do you mean?" Donald asked a bit confused.

I placed the phone back up to my ear, "Daisy," I cleared my throat, I forgot about the impression I was doing, "Daisy," there we go, "you still talking?" She was. Talking aimlessly as if I was still listening on and on about how much she needs this and how she wants and desires that. I put the phone on speaker.

"I've always wanted some high platform shoes, you know like the ones in the seventies. Oh, and I want really expensive jewelry, and wigs, oh and chocolate. You know, just skip everything else and give me chocolate. Yeah, chocolate, it's like my crack Holmes, essay? Is that on how you say it?"

"Um..." Panchito and I started to say, simultaneously. And thus began the weird politeness.

"Oh do you want to say it?" Panchito said. "No you can say it, it's your offense." I retorted. "Yes, but you wrote it down, so you should say it." Panchito replied. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be as funny if I said it. Besides, it's you we're talking about here. You got the reputation for it."

"Yeah but you got the voice," Panchito said, "You played me well, a little bit too high in my opinion but still passable as a double. So you should say it."

"Are there multiple people in the room?" Daisy asked.

Panchito smiled, I was already smiling from ear to ear, we both nodded, "No."

"Well what it is that you're talking about, why can't you just say it?" Daisy suggested. Panchito and me shrugged at the same time, "Not a bad idea," we said, again in unison. "Can you please read the last line of your script please?" I asked. "Sure," Daisy said. "I've always wanted some high platform shoes, you know like the ones in the seventies. Oh, and I want really expensive jewelry, and wigs, oh and chocolate. You know, just skip everything else and give me chocolate. Yeah, chocolate, it's like my crack Holmes, essay? Is that on how you say it?"

"Um...that's racist and no that's not how you say it." Panchito and I said.

"Oh, then how do you say it?" Daisy asked.

"Simple," Panchito said, "you just don't!" I finished the sentence. "Oh, well," Daisy as is if the conversation didn't matter anyway, which it didn't, "tell Donald I said we're through okay?"

"Alright." the rooster answered.

I turned the phone off speaker and placed in on my ear. "Adios Daisy." I said, impersonating Panchito a final time. Daisy paused, "Oh, I've been waiting a long time to say this to a man, and since I hate you anyway," she said, "Adios Bitch!" She hung up.

I hung up the phone and handed it back to Donald who was stupefied. "You are both terrible people." He said. "Yeah," I said, "I'm just that mean aren't I?"

"Yes." Donald said.

"Panchito, I need you to do something for me." I said. "Need someone brought down?" He asked looking a bit devious. "Something like that," I replied, "I want you to dispose of someone. Don't kill 'em, just mane, injure, very painfully."

"Understood, so who do you want to 'dispose' of?" Panchito asked. "Daisy Duck." I answered jokingly. Nobody got it, they all looked confused except for Donald who was raging mad. He broke out into a fury and tackled me to the ground, punching me several times in the face before Panchito could pull him up. "Calm down!" The rooster said.

Dodger, who was in the Hummer still, saw the commotion and came out. "What's going on here?" He asked.

"The author and Donald are having a fight." Terry said. "It seems pretty serious."

"Oh yeah," Dodger looked at me, I was pretty beat up, but I wasn't dead, "like what kinda fight?"

"It's looking like the kind you don't walk away from Senor Artful." Dave, one of Américo's travelling skeleton posse member said. "It's Dodger," the dog said. "Hey, where's the rest of you guys and the other one?" Dave looked around and shrugged his shoulders. "Vegas man, that's all I got to say."

Donald broke away from Panchito grasp, punching the rooster in the jaw and once again pinning me down, but this time we rolled into the streets. I fought back as hard as I could, and Launchpad, Jose, and Panchito decided to help. Dodger just sat there watching with Terry and John, hoping that we wouldn't get run over. Speaking of which...

Cars were everywhere, swerving all over the road, running into each other, running into buildings, fire hydrants (that exploded and caused water to spew into the streets), people were crying, puking, praying to God to just end it all. It made the Final Destination movies look like shit. "Stop this!" Jose cried, trying to be reasonable. "Try to be reasonable!"

"Are you just repeating the text?" Launchpad asked. Jose paused, "Maybe," another pause, "shut up." The Brazilian and the aviator managed to pull Donald off me while Panchito helped me up. The three birds brushed us off. Donald looked at me as if he were about to kill me. "If you touch her," he said, "I will find you, and I _will_ kill you." I smiled, "Wow, you just said the most quoted statement from film history ever and made it less fun to say." I answered. "Not to mention it was a bit cliché." Panchito added. I put out my hand in a fist and said quietly, "Fist bump." He bumped my fist. "Oh so you two are buddies now!" Donald said, "I thought you were supposed to be friends with me Panchito!"

"I am your friend Donal'." the rooster cried feeling a bit hurt. "Then take my side!" Donald said. "Alright," Panchito moved over to them and turned towards me, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."

I gave them all the deadpan expression. "Really guys? You thought I was going to organize a hit on Daisy?"

"It sure did sound like it." Donald said. I smiled, all big and Cheshire Cat like. "Okay," Panchito said, "who agrees that this is just like Cheshire?" They all nodded. "Let's call him." Jose said. He pulled out his phone and dialed Cheshire Cat's number. It rang. "Stephen Fry here."

"Oh, sorry I was looking for Cheshire Cat, my apologizes." Jose said. Stephen sighed deeply, "Yes what do you want?"

"There's a guy who's grinning, and it's really weird, come on and check it out." Jose said. "No." Stephen said, "If you call this number again, I'm going to have you arrested." He hung up. "Did he answer?" Launchpad asked. "Well, sort of." Jose said. "Anyway," Panchito said, "what's with the creepy smile?" I didn't answer. I just kept that rather truthful creepy smile on my face. I walked out into the middle of the street, saw an oncoming car and took a bow. "Adios boys," I said. "May the Force be with you." The car come on fast, I stood there, not really caring. Panchito dashed for me, trying to repeat his performance with Terry. It sped, the car impacted both of us. Panchito just lay there stuck to the car, I went under it. "Senor?" Panchito said, looking around, not seeing me. A red light. The car stopped, Panchito got off, flipped the driver off, did some rapid fire Spanish in our defense and walked back towards everyone.

Panchito looked around again, "Anyone see him?" They all searched high and low for me. "Come on out!" Jose said, "We can't do this story without you!" Dodger sniffed around, walking across the street casually and searching up and down the block. "Guys," he called, "I got nothing!" Terry dialed my cell phone number, John called his police friends and was thirty seconds from filing a missing persons report when they saw me, coming out of a manhole cover.

I was covered in filth, grime, and unmentionable items, but I had a pizza box in hand so it couldn't be that bad. "Thanks Splinter!" I called down and closed the manhole cover. My cast members all ran towards me. "Is that pizza?" Terry asked. "Yeah," I said, opening the box, "want a slice?" Everyone took one. It was a simple Domino's pepperoni, one of those pizzas that had like twenty something slices or something. "Where'd you get it?" Panchito asked. "Oh nobody really, just a few turtles and a rat." I said. "The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?" Everyone said in unison. "What the hell are those guys doing in Vegas?" John asked. "Summer home," I answered, "and because I needed a plot device to get myself out of here." I handed the pizza over to John and walked down the street. "So now what?" Terry called. I turned around, "Just back in the van and listen to music." They all shrugged, "We can do that."

They all walked to the Hummer. Taped to the hood was a note from Slash:

_Hey Guys,_

_I'm leaving the group for a while. I'm still a Caballero right? Anyway, I'm going to see the world for a while, hang out in Vegas, maybe check out the Grand Canyon that type of stuff. I'll meet you guys in New York. Don't kill each other please, I like you guys too much._

_Keep rocking,_

_Slash_

_P.S.: I stole Panchito's guitar_

Panchito looked at the note first, "You know normally I would've been ticked off, but hey, it's Slash, he can have whatever the hell he wants." The rooster made for the front seat until Jose stopped him. "Panchito," he said. "Si?" The rooster said. "Did you pay for this Hummer?"

"No."

"Do you pay taxes on this Hummer?" Jose asked again.

Panchito sighed, knowing where this is going. "No, no, and before you say anything, no."

"Let me finish!" Jose cried. "Do you maintain this Hummer?"

"Let me ask you this Jose," Panchito said, "does it look like I maintain _anything_?" Jose looked Panchito over, once, twice, and a third time before answering. "No. Now get in." He said. Panchito shrugged and proceeded once again to get in the front seat. The parrot pulled him out and got in before Panchito could again and started the engine.

Amazingly, everyone fit in.

"Everyone ready?" Jose asked. "No." Panchito said, who was still buckling up. "Good!" Jose floored it, sending both the rooster and the Hummer speeding down the highway. Terry, who was in the front seat, laughed as Panchito looked like one of those Garfield suction cup figurines that people from another generation would put in their cars. Terry pulled Panchito off, or at least he tried to. Panchito screamed, "Alright, ow, geez that hurts!" He cried, his voice a bit distorted from his mouth up against the glass. "Well it's your own fault." Jose said. "My fault!" Panchito cried, "It's entirely your fault, you were the one who floored it."

"I wouldn't have floored it if you weren't such an gostosão half the time!" Jose said.

"I don't even know what that means!" Panchito cried. "Oh now you know th rest of us feel!" Terry said, still pulling on him. "What do you mean Terry?" Panchito asked a bit confused.

"When you speak Spanish, nobody can understand a single word you say." Terry explained. "Hold on, we're coming into a turn!" Jose cried as he frantically turned the wheel as if he were in a _Fast and Furious_ movie. During the turn, Panchito slid down towards Terry's direction, the rooster still very much on the glass. "Panchito," Terry said, "your ass is in my face."

"You like it?" Panchito asked jokingly. "No." Terry said. "Good," Panchito replied, "cause you're really not going to like it in a few minutes."

"Why is that?" Terry asked as if he really needed to know. "Let's just say that Starbucks and pizza don't really mix well." Panchito said. "Ah," Terry rather calmly said, he thought about it. Something that he called "The Robert Downey Jr. from 'Due Date' Thought". "You know, I think I could live with it." Panchito's bowels moved downward a bit, signaling to Terry of the impending doom. "Will someone get the fucking rooster off me!" He cried getting a bit panicky. "Well," Dodger said, being a smart ass, "you said you'd be okay with it."

"Of course I said that, but that was the punch line you idiot!" Terry said. "Alright Terry," John said, "calm down, just sit back, relax and breath." Terry scolded him. "Don't you get it, I won't be able _to_ breathe ever again if you don't do something right now!"

"Well how do you think I feel!" Panchito said, "You won't stop talking and has anybody ever told you that your nose feels just like a-"

"OKAY!" Terry screamed cutting the rooster off, "Is there anything that you could personally do?" Panchito tried to heave himself off the glass. "Nope, lo siento, I'm stuck." His bowels moved again. "Panchito," Terry said, "if you do this, I'm going to kill you."

"Understood, just know one thing," Panchito said. "What's that?" Terry asked, no longer caring. The rooster smiled a bit, "We just got back to the premise."

"Oh," Terry rolled his eyes, "goodie."

* * *

So as Terry was praying not to smell like Starbucks and pizza for the rest of his life, Jose was busy driving. His driving habits, were relatively good, save for the hospital moment...except for the fact that he still drove on the wrong side of the road. Once again, facing the same problem as before. As cars were quickly moving out of the way, Jose realized that he was in _his_ Hummer and since he _is_ magical, the Hummer is therefore magical. It was upon this realization that Jose began not give a shit about traffic laws and drove like he was playing _Need for Speed_...for the first time. He drove off the road into sidewalks, buildings, and etc's. People were screaming and etc's. until finally the parrot decided to stop at a red light. Jose's eyes were flaring and his chest was moving up and down violently. "That. Was. Awesome! Let's do that again! How 'bout it guys?" Jose turned to his passengers who were all horror stricken and terrified. "Great!" The parrot cried. "As soon as the light turns green, we'll go at it again."

"No!" Everyone cried. "Let's just stay on the road please Jose," John asked, "the _right_ side of it this time." Jose shrugged his shoulders, "Alright whatever you say." He said and moved the Hummer to the left side of the street, once again, the incorrect side in terms of the United States. "I meant the _literal_ right side of the street you moron!" John exclaimed. "Alright, geez," Jose said, as he redirected the vehicle to the literal right. "You Americans drive so weird. Did you know that almost every other country in the world, almost every country besides the U.S. drives on the left instead of the right?"

"That's great Jose," John replied, not caring, "but we're not on a cycling trip in Europe where we end up in Russia, where everything is on the left now are we?"

" Oh be quiet with your Monty Python references this is no time to joke!" Panchito cried, still stuck to the glass. A pause. One of those long awkward, _'Um...what did you just say?'_ pauses. "What?" Panchito said, "Poor timing?" They all nodded. "Ah well, nobody's perfect." He said. The light turned green and Jose began driving.

At one point, they passed a piano shop. "Oh wait," Donald said, "can you stop Jose, I gotta do something real quick." Jose nodded and pulled over to the side of the road next to shop. Donald got out of the car, walked to the front of it, opened Terry's door and got Panchito off the window simply by pushing him towards Jose. "Come with me Panchito." Donald said. The rooster nodded, climbed over Terry, exited the car, and shut the door. Terry rolled down the window. "What's cookin'?" Jose asked. "Nothing Jose," Donald answered, "Just circle around and come back in here in like ten minutes." The parrot nodded and put the Hummer in drive, "Wanna talk about something?" He asked. "I need to talk to Panchito right now Jose. Don't worry, I'm fine, I just need to talk to him is all." Jose nodded and drove around the block slowly.

As soon as the Hummer was gone, Donald walked inside the piano shop. The rooster followed him.

* * *

The shop was one of those buildings that hadn't been touched by modern society. Built in the 1950's, it still had the chrome look to it. The floor was white, and it reminded the two birds of _h. _. The place was filled with expensive pianos, guitars, and other string instruments. It was a Music-Go-Round. The owner and only worker in the place was an old hippy of the seventies who was still stoned from weed he smoked in the seventies. The only air conditioning unit was a lonely miserable fan from 1989 that creaked with every turn and barely made a different in terms of the heat that was in the room.

" Santo fuma hace calor aquí." Panchito said. "Yeah, I have no idea what you just said." Donald replied as they walked up to the counter. "Excuse me," Donald said, "is it alright if I borrow a piano?"

"Sure." The still stoned worker said. "What for, if I may so ask?"

"Call it a plea of desperation." Donald answered. "Take the one up in front," the worker said, "it oldest, the most expensive, but the most beautiful piece I have." Donald nodded and made his way back to the front towards the piano.

The piano was an 1887 hand carved import from Europe. The list price was overpriced at three million but hey, it's Vegas. "Donald," Panchito said, "why are we in a piano shop?" He asked. Donald looked at the rooster as he sat down at the piano. "I don't want to lose her Panchito."

"You heard what the author said, she's crazy, she even said so-"

"I don't care!" Donald said, cutting Panchito off. "I just want her back, she's right, I'm there for anybody anymore. I'm always stuck with you."

"Then go. I'm not stopping you." Panchito replied.

"I can't."

"Why can't you?" The rooster asked, leaning up against the piano carefully and gently.

"Because I leave then you would be roasting on an open fire, and Jose would have an apple in his mouth." Donald said. Panchito smiled, "You have a good imagination amigo," he placed his sombrero over his eyes and leaned back like Indiana Jones, "a wild crazy imagination."

"I'm serious Panchito," Donald said, "I don't want to lose her. I can't. I need your help getting there by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Panchito asked. "That's imposible!" He cried. "Wow," Donald cast his eyes down, on the piano, playing a few keys. "that's rather pathetic."

"What are you saying?" Panchito said, straightening his sombrero and standing up. "I never thought you'd say the word imposible. You used to never say it you know. You were always every time, 'There's always a solution to every problem' or 'I'll never let you fall from the skies or drown in the seas, I'll always be there to help you get through.'" Donald looked at Panchito dead in the eye, "'I can promise you that.' Do you even remember that day?" Panchito nodded, "I do indeed. I remember it very well." He sat next to Donald on the piano seat and started playing a song. The Head and the Heart's, _Gone._

"You were getting destroyed by a group of Mexicans down at the bar my family owned. Anyway, I came in, along with my family and saved you. Then some American friends of yours started to harass us back and you got into one of your tantrums." He laughed to himself as he started singing. _"It's your head or your heart, and you're too damn scared to start. It's in your mind in your soul, and you just don't know where to go. It's in your head or your heart and you're damn scared to start. It's in your mind, in your soul, and you just don't know where to go, now you're gone!"_ The rooster continued playing. "Anyway, after all that business, one of my family shot you in the back. Literally. I don't know who did it, still don't. I remembered that you said that 'I don't want to die here.' I rushed you a hospital, your heart rate was speeding, your head was all bloody and gory and everything. It looked like a bad horror movie. I made that promise to you on your bedside. I intend to keep it."

"Then get me there man!" Donald said, "I can't do this by myself. You're the only one who can do it, you and your magic carpet."

"Serape." Panchito corrected, still playing the piano. "I'll help you, but why specifically me?" He asked. "Because," Donald said, "I wanted you to be the first to know something. You have to promise to keep it a secret."

"That depends." Panchito replied, "What sort of secret is it?"

"I went to the doctor last week," Donald said, "they think I may have heart disease."

Panchito stopped playing the piano and just stood there, a bit shocked, disoriented, confused, the whole world crashed and burned down. "What do you need me to do?" The rooster asked. "I need you to get me there Panch, you're Obi Wan Kenobi now." Donald said. Panchito smiled, "I'm not your only hope Donal'," he said, embracing him, "keep that chin up eh?" He patted the duck on the back and let go. "Thanks," Donald said.

_"So take back your pictures. Take back your letters. Don't send me no postcards, telling me you'll miss me."_ Panchito said, continued singing. Donald smiled and joined in. "_Cause I'm trying here! I'm trying here!" _Donald took the next part of the verse, _"And fuck what they're saying, cause my mind is made up." _Panchito the next part. _"And they're all just starving like the rest of us!"_ They both sang, their voices carrying to God, hoping for an answer, a prayer, anything, both of them on the verge of crying their eyes out. _"and I'm trying here, oh I'm trying here!"_

Lovingly and passionately, the two birds sang the last verse again, as if it were the last moment they would spend together. Here the world didn't matter, everything disappeared. The only thing Panchito and Donald concerned themselves with was the piano and their heartache. All at once, while the bridge was playing, they reminisced, they smiled, about their many outings, their escapades. _"Gone are the days where the wind would brush my face. Gone are the day where you're the wind. Gone are the days when my heavy heart is worn on your sleeve."_ Jose pulled up again. The two birds still kept singing, this time in unison. "_ It's your head or your heart, and you're too damn scared to start. It's in your mind in your soul, and you just don't know where to go"_ Jose honked his horn. Donald got up and left, still singing until he exited the shop_. It's in your head or your heart and you're damn scared to start. It's in your mind, in your soul, and you just don't know where to go," _Panchito looked up and noticed that Donald was no longer there, he finished the last part, with no less emotion or intensity as before. "_Now you're gone!"_He played the last three and a half eight notes. The rooster stood up from the piano, closed the cover turned back to the store worker, who had several used up tissues and teardrops running down his face. Panchito sighed, walked over to him and hugged him. The store worker embraced him back, with more force than expected, making the rather heartfelt emotional situation a bit awkward. "You're a good friend you know," the worker replied, crying. "You make sure he gets there to her. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Panchito said.

"I fought in the Gulf War, I didn't become a Sergeant to hear someone whine!" The worker said assertively, his mood completely changed. Panchito stiffened up, stood at attention and saluted the man as if he was in the Army. "You clean up good son," the worker said, "were you in the service?"

"Yes sir, First Battalion United States Marine, PFC Gonzalez sir!" Panchito cried with a bit of pride but all the respect in the word. The worker stood and saluted him back, "Carry on soldier." Panchito nodded, lowered his salute and walked out of the shop.

The shop worker watched as Jose pulled the Hummer away from the curb and back onto the road, New York City or Bust. When the Hummer was nowhere in sight, the worker picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hello, it's me, Jerry."

"Jerry, where are they?" A voice said.

"They just came by here." Jerry said. "Good, are they headed to New York?" The voice asked. "I think so." Jerry replied. "You will be paid within the next forty-eight hours Mr. Peterson." An evil laugh, "Thank you for your cooperation." Jerry hung the phone up.

Three hours later, Jerry was killed by a bullet wound to the head.

Cue the ruthless antagonist with no mercy.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**This chapter took a long time to write, I was at a road block for a while but I finally figured it out.**

**Anyway, I hope that everyone had a nice New Year's. I hope you're ready for Season Two!**

**I appreciate all of my readers and reviewers, you guys are awesome. As always I TAKE SUGGESTIONS FOR PLOT.**

**THIS STORY IS RELATIVELY OPEN.**

**If you have an idea PLEASE SHARE IT.**

**Glad to be writing this again.**

**Let's make this year great! :)**

**Special Thanks to: zurpocalypse and TheNewIdea for your continued support! (Check out their work too, cause it's actually worth your time to read and it's just good)**


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